


Crushed

by Carmineladyluck



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Miraculous, F/M, Fashion designer Mari, Model Adrien Agreste
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-07 22:33:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12850911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carmineladyluck/pseuds/Carmineladyluck
Summary: Adrien Agreste is screwed. Sent on a mission to learn everything he can about the up and coming Ladybug brand for his father, he is unprepared when faced with the charm and talent of Marinette. He definitely won't let his father screw up Marinette's chance at taking over the fashion world.





	1. Screwed

**Author's Note:**

> I know I have other things to write, which I'm working on promise, but this idea got stuck and the only way to unstick it is to get it written down.

The ballroom of the hotel was elegantly decorated in red and black accents, something his father would have immediately scoffed at, though Adrien was happy to be able to represent his father’s company without the stoic man who seemed to tower and intimidate possible investors. No, Adrien’s smile had been stretched over billboards since his father had designed couture onesies, and he’d learned to be amicable and professional when in the public eye. 

A man dressed in a well-tailored suit offered him a glass of champagne at the door, if his father had been present Adrien would have declined, but on his own with nothing but the Gorilla standing in a far-off corner, he knew he could accept one or two glasses and nurse them through the night without his father getting word of it. No press was allowed in the gala, which meant he could easily pass it off as the same glass. 

To his left he could hear the loud voice of Mayor Bourgeois, laughing at a joke told by an older constituent, Adrien was glad to miss the punchline of the joke before he entered the ring of people around the Mayor to say hello and shake hands, Adrien may have been a model with a fake smile most people took for his real one, but he had to draw the line at bad jokes. He was a man who only accepted puns. 

“Adrien my boy!” Mayor Bourgeois clasped his hand, and patted his shoulder in a fatherly manor, “So glad you could attend, I’m sorry to hear that your father had a sudden business issue to fix, but at least this party won’t be without the charm of an Agreste.” 

“Thank you, sir,” he flashed his megawatt model grin, “but we’re both aware that my father has all the charm. I’m afraid that your party will suffer without his presence here.” He extracted his hand and let the Mayor direct him toward his daughter. 

“Adrikins!” Chloe’s dress was yellow, Adrien wasn’t surprised at this, they’d been friends long enough that he knew of her love of the color. Her dress was voluminous at the bottom, which made the hug they exchanged awkward. “I was almost worried I would be stuck without you tonight.” She levelled him with a look, one he recognized as concern. His father did have a habit of excluding Adrien in the invitations of dinners, parties, and general business dealings. 

“You know he feels when a new designer starts to edge into the spotlight.” Adrien rolled his eyes and took a gulp from the champagne, which bubbled against his tongue in a vague sense of freedom. “He’s been debriefing me nonstop on getting all of the details on this mysterious Ladybug line, as well as the designer.” He shrugged, knowing Chloe would pick up his unstated distaste of the project. She would also know that he would do the bare minimum to meet the designer and report back to his father. 

“Would you like me to give you some inside details on the designer?” Chloe’s eyes were a little harder and the pit of Adrien’s stomach dropped. Chloe had mellowed since she had graduated from lycée, but she could still exhibit the same spiteful nature when speaking of former classmates. Adrien didn’t want to hear whatever tidbits she could claim, knowing how Chloe operated meant being aware that not all facts were truth. And so, he did the safest thing he could, he hummed noncommittally into his glass. 

“Her name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng, we were in classes together for years.” Chloe raised a brow distastefully, “she won a few of your father’s competitions in lycée, she’s the reason you broke out in hives and started sneezing during the bowler hat shoot.” He remembered the stylish hat, the design was sophisticated and original, but he’d also been out of commission for a few days recovering from the use of pigeon feathers. 

Chloe continued, “Her parents own a bakery near the school, it’s not awful, but she lets it get to her head and struts around as if her parent’s bakery were top class.” And then he realized who Chloe was talking about. She had called this poor girl Maritrash whenever they had talked, and Adrien had heard these complaints against her looks, her popularity, and her designs. Adrien hadn’t seen anything of these new designs, but he knew better than to cut Chloe off a tirade, and so he nodded occasionally and went to take slow sips from his glass. 

“I don’t know why my father insisted on having a party here to unveil these designs.” Chloe scoffed, and Adrien could tell the end of the tirade was near, he took a drink in relief and was startled when none of the pleasant bubbles brushed against his lips. His glass was empty. Excusing himself from Chloe to search for a new drink was difficult, the grasp she had on the crook of his arm was painfully tight. More people had filed into the ballroom, a quartet was playing and the sound of glasses clinking, and chattering was a little overwhelming from the center of the room. 

He was stopped first by an investor in the company, who only asked after his father and briskly left Adrien without so much as a goodbye. The investors of the Agreste fashion empire had always treated him this way, even though he was in his twenties he was still looked at as the same seven-year-old boy who drew quietly during board meetings, seen and not heard. Adrien had a degree in business, however the investors acted as if it was a promotion from kindergarten to first grade. 

The second person who stopped him was a photographer he had worked with previously, he was talking quickly with his Italian accent, mentioning spaghetti casually as if it weren’t a strange thing to discuss in every conversation. The photographer was raving about the chance to work with him again, glad that his father’s empire wasn’t as stuck up as this new brand apparently was. 

“They only have one photographer they are willing to work with.” He scoffed in outrage, “She isn’t even a real photographer, she was a journalist!” Adrien filed the tidbit away and politely excused himself with his still empty glass. 

The last person didn’t stop him physically. In fact, she was on the opposite side of the room next to a curly haired woman and a man who fiddled with the tie around his neck as if he was looking for something else. No, this woman was laughing her head thrown back, her eyes squinted shut, and her smile free from the fake necessity Adrien had in his. Her short dark hair was swept back and pinned with an ornate comb. 

“I see you’ve spotted the guest of honor!” The mayor’s hand was on his shoulder again, the alcohol in the older man’s system meant the hand fell heavier against him, almost knocking him off balance with the suddenness of the movement. Adrien hadn’t trained in fencing to stumble though, and he shifted his weight as casually as he could.  
“Come let me introduce you.” The mayor didn’t accept Adrien’s excuse that she seemed busy, instead he barreled ahead almost shouting the word “nonsense” over and over. 

“Ms. Dupain-Cheng” the laughing woman turned, the smile still lingering in the overwhelming blue of her eyes, “may I introduce you to Mr. Adrien Agreste” 

“Pleasure to meet you” his hand is proffered before he’s even realized he’s done it. This beautiful woman was the girl that Chloe had called Maritrash? She smiled at him politely and her smaller hand brushed into his handshake. 

“The pleasure is all mine, I’ve been a fan of your career for years.” He could feel a flush that wasn’t from the alcohol try to take over his face. Instead he dipped at the waist and brushed his lips against the smooth pale skin of her hand. 

“I have also been a fan of yours,” her head tilted in confusion and he went on, “You won the bowler hat contest my father had years, ago didn’t you?” She nodded, beaming at him, the color of her cheeks turning the same shade as the decorations. 

“I hate to break this up,” the other woman bumped against Marinette’s hip, “Mari we’re expected on the stage in a few minutes.” Her arm hooked around Marinette’s and she wiggled her fingers at the fidgeting man. 

“Nino Lahiffe” the man didn’t let the silence settle before he was facing Adrien, a shy smile gracing his dark face. 

“Adrien Agreste.” He shook the other man’s hand and smiled at him, “What do you do Mr. Lahiffe?” 

“Dude!” the other man let out a loud exclamation and grinned stupidly, “Call me Nino, I don’t really do this fancy stuff. I’m a DJ for some nightclubs in the area so this isn’t really my scene.” 

Adrien grinned, a real one, the one his father told him would look awful stretched across magazines and billboards. Nino didn’t seem to care though, and they quickly launched into a conversation as if they had known each other since birth. 

Nino was in the middle of telling Adrien how many times Alya, the curly haired woman, and Marinette had needed to re-tie his necktie because he’d nervously fidgeted the knot too tight or too loose. Adrien had never had this issue, but he could sympathize with Nino about this strange upgrade to his wardrobe. 

“This is the first time you’ve worn a suit?” Adrien’s eyes were probably wide in shock. 

“Nah Dude!” Nino put his hands in the pockets to show off the fit and cut, “This is the first time I’ve had a suit made to my exact measurements though. Marinette is a miracle worker because she only had a few days to make all of our outfits.”

“She made all of them?” He hadn’t focused on what Marinette or Alya had worn. But he examined the professional construction of the suit, his father had never bothered to make Adrien a suit, he’d always put it to one of his designers. But he could see the details put into each piece, and as he felt the hemline his fingers brushed against a raised portion, thinking it was a pucker in the construction he moved to examine it closer. 

“Mari incorporates her signature into everything.” Nino must have guessed where Adrien’s thoughts were going. “Some say it’s selfish to sign it, but it’s more about the thought behind it.” 

“I don’t think I understand what you mean?” Adrien was puzzled. His father had his signature on his tag, but he wasn’t a brand-new fashion designer breaking into the world. He was a fashion mogul with headquarters and stores all over the globe. 

“Mari’s parent’s own a bakery, and each individual pastry that leaves the kitchen is meant for someone, the might not know who will end up with it, but they know that someone somewhere is meant for the treat. Mari signs the piece because it’s her way of continuing the thought that each piece is meant for someone somewhere, and that each piece should be special to the individual.” Nino grinned at him, “It’s a pretty cool idea.” 

Adrien didn’t know what to say. His father created fashion, accessories, everything but he didn’t do it with anyone in mind. He did it to keep his thumb on top of the fashion world. His father didn’t care if the clothing he made went to a man with his wardrobe full of suits or to a man who would never be able to afford another one. Each customer was a dollar sign, Adrien mused that his own existence from womb to tomb would also be a dollar sign in his father’s eyes. Not that there was no love from his father, but he rarely showed thought towards these idealistic thoughts. 

The room darkened a bit, and the quartet’s final notes were met with the wave of chatter slowly coming to an end. The Mayor stood on a runway, microphone grasped tightly in his chubby fist. The show was about to start, though the slow whirring of a projector falling into place over the model’s entrance, and the sudden burst of light against the canvas made the excited chatter bubble again. 

There was a picture on the projector, a woman with dark hair wound into an intricate braid around the crown of the head was lounging in a bathtub. There was a mixture of bubbles and gems strewn casually around the model. The dress was crimson, a long train extending over the side of the tub, leaving the model looking almost mermaid like. Her face was masked behind a spotted domino mask, and her left hand was casually resting against the side of the tub, a bubble resting precariously against her ring finger as if she was married to the sea. There was an intensity in the too blue eyes peering out behind the mask, not a seduction or a smile. It was contemplative, mischievous, and alluring in all the right ways. 

There was a silence in the hall, nobody had dared to move since the captivating picture had graced the screen. Adrien had never seen the model before, he hadn’t seen her as he’d scoped the party either, maybe she’d arrived through a back door. There was a sudden swelling of music and Adrien realized as it hit a crescendo that the show had started. 

The light that clicked was sudden, though the traditional cheongsam at the end of the runway was not. The closer he looked the more he realized that it wasn’t traditional. It hugged the curves of the model, whose dark hair was swept into place with a comb, but the uneven length and the placement of clasps to close it were shockingly original. And then the model was gone, another who looked identical had taken her place, flowing fabric in layers of gray gave the illusion of the Eiffel tower as a person, though the image was starkly different from the actual tower, the dress was stunning. 

The show continued, each outfit more stunning than the last. One dress changed from a constricting mermaid fit into a blooming of brightly colored skirt, it looked like a dahlia flower blooming. Another gave the illusion that the model was floating, though her feet hadn’t left the ground the entire time. Adrien had never seen fabric behave the way that it was, his father didn’t use fabric like this, he kept things stiff and overly formal. His fabric didn’t breathe its own against the body like these did. 

The models were identical, domino masks and dark hair put in such a way that the length couldn’t be determined. They were similar builds, complexion, and they were mysterious. It didn’t seem as if there were two of them, it seemed as if the edge of the first model’s clothes had disappeared and she was back again, strutting confidently down the lit catwalk. 

And then it was over as suddenly as it began, dark and silent the crowd hushed, desperate to savor the experience. Adrien didn’t know how to put into words the show he had watched. The conversation with his father was going to be difficult, his entire vocabulary, including those languages he was fluent in, were gone. 

The light was on again, but this time it was Marinette who stood at the edge of the catwalk, her dress was understated and classic, pale pink with delicate embroidered flowers trailing across her body like the wind had blown petals into place and was holding it there despite gravity. Her voice was strong, though Adrien couldn’t force himself to focus on the words, he was too dazzled by the blue of her eyes, and the way the light cast shadows against her exposed shoulders. And then they were clapping, Adrien didn’t know for what at first, his mind addled with admiration. 

He wanted to stay and discuss the design choices with Marinette, he knew it wasn’t possible because his father had instructed him to return immediately after the show while the memory was fresh. He barely managed to exchange numbers with Nino and promise a more casual meeting the next time before the Gorilla had escorted him to the limo. 

Adrien was screwed. He knew how his father viewed competition, and Marinette was definitely competition. Rule one had been broken, don’t get attached. He could feel the attachment to this stranger, and he couldn’t help himself from trying to plan their next meeting, his father be damned. 


	2. Billboard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait for this second chapter. I wasn't sure where it's going, still not sure, honestly. I want to include Plagg and Tikki but I'm not sure how to incorporate them in. I hope you enjoy this chapter!!

Adrien had done his best to relay the information to his father, he made sure to sound business like and to not let his budding interest in the new designer and a possible friend show. His father, although displeased by the small amount of information received, was glad to have some insight however and to see that Adrien had taken an interest in the fashion empire. 

And then he had been excused, not even a parting comment, just his father adjusting his focus from his son to his computer in front of him. Adrien was used to this, even though the sensation that rushed his body was as unbearable as always. Lonely. 

His room was immaculate, the white duvet cover looked pristine, and without even bothering to do more than shrug his suit jacket off, undo his tie, and kick his shoes off he let gravity pull on him until his worn body was cocooned by the soft cloud of cotton blankets. 

He had exchanged plans with Nino, and he’d gone about his schedule doing his best to seem as unchanged as he could. It had been three days since the party, and in those three days Adrien hadn’t seen so much as a glimpse of his father in the too large home. 

However, it was on this fourth morning that the article on astrophysics he was reading up on was torn from his hands, and a colorful printed image of a billboard was thrust into his fruit salad. The billboard was almost unbearably beautiful. A goddess in white gossamer covered in delicately embroidered blooms was bathed in the warm glow of the sun, and all around her colorful flowers swayed into the wind. 

“Do you know why I’m showing you this billboard Adrien?” His father’s voice was clipped, and low. Adrien knew better than to answer the rhetorical question his father was posing, it was a dangerous swinging bridge he was left hovering on. 

“This billboard is one that has held images of you since you were born. I have always been the first to renew the subscription on it and have never had to do more than choose which of your photos best fit the season. This morning however, Nathalie brought the payment for the billboard and the news that another had chosen it.” 

His father removed his glasses to clean them with the cloth napkin Adrien had yet to use, “This billboard is near the school that Ms. Bourgeois attended. It’s across from the little family bakery that continues to defy business sense. And it’s one that market experts within the company have seen the most sales come from. Do you know who took it? That bug woman.”

It took Adrien a moment to realize he meant Marinette, and then he could see the dark-haired goddess as the model from the reveal party. He could feel his father’s disappointment in him like it was a physical thing, and he could sense that his father expected him to do more to get rid of the issue. 

“Adrien, I am leaving this in your hands. This woman is an issue and I intend to squash her. It’s up to you to gather intel on how to go about it.” And then his father was gone, the fruit salad in front of Adrien looked less appetizing, less colorful, and as if the sweet fruit had started to rot. 

He was meeting Nino at Tom and Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie, somewhere he’d never had the chance to visit before, but he knew it was close to the billboard in question. He wanted to see it with his own eyes. He needed to see it personally. 

The bell chimed sweetly overhead as he entered the doors, and he could see Nino wrapped up in conversation with a small Asian woman. He did his best to peruse the treats silently to let Nino finish the conversation without interrupting, but he hadn’t expected Nino to pull Adrien in. 

“Adrien this is Marinette’s mom Sabine.” Adrien hadn’t put the fact that Marinette’s parents owned a bakery, and that this was the bakery together. It was warm, not just temperature warm, the smile that Sabine was giving him screamed “home” and the close way that she held his hand as she shook it.   
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” He smiles at her, genuinely feeling some of the empty space in him fill with warmth.

“The pleasure is all mine.” The woman’s smile is a bit mischievous, “Marinette has always been a fan of your work, it takes true talent to sell clothes and not just wear them.” He can feel his face warming, and he can hear Nino simmer into a fit of laughter. 

“Maman?” the voice is lovely and lilting, and then bluebell eyes meet his as Marinette herself comes through from the kitchen. She looks a little shocked to see Adrien, but soon the smile she offers back is warm. 

“Your father must be ready to box the cake up.” Sabine infers what her daughter had started to say, and then lets a kiss brush against her daughter’s cheek as she passed. 

“Congratulations on the billboard.” Adrien says it briskly to break the silence setting in, “my father says it’s one of the best in Paris.” He wants to kick himself for saying something so incredibly stupid. He didn’t want to make this vibrant designer feel the wrath his father had set forth. 

“Thank you.” She sounds a little stiff, one arm clasped to her elbow, “I chose it, so my parents can see it from the living room.” 

And then it’s silent again. Adrien hadn’t thought of a reason like familial pride. He’d been weaned of familial pride after his mother had died, and the absence of it hadn’t registered.

“Marinette has a better view from her balcony though.” Nino interjects into the silence, “Want to see it?”

“Nino I’m sure—” Marinette had started to reject the idea.

“I’d love to!” Adrien says it louder than he means too, and the wide set of her eyes leaves him giddy. He gestures for Marinette to lead the way, and he follows looking around interestedly as he heads into the kitchen. 

A bear of a man is gently placing a giant cake into a wide shape of cardboard. It isn’t a box, but Adrien can see the lines that will fold it into the cube.   
“Mon chou,” the man calls to them, “Would you mind folding the box for me?” 

Adrien watches intensely as Marinette makes short work of folding the cardboard to encapsulate the cake inside. The outside of the box is decorated with the logo of the patisserie and Nino elbows him in the side. 

“Marinette designed the logo when we were in school,” Nino grins at him, “She also got to design a cover for a Jagged Stone album.

Adrien could say without a shadow of a doubt that he had never been star struck. At least not until her blue eyes met his again, the woman in front of him had struck him dumb with awe.

Nino had been right about the view of the billboard from Marinette’s balcony. He couldn’t imagine having to stare at his face everyday for years, each fake smile plastered wider than life across the lit platform. However, the artistic beauty of Marinette’s creation was breathtaking, something the picture hadn’t come close to really portraying.


	3. Masked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that this is so late! My computer has been broken on and off for months, and it finally kicked the bucket. I hope that this has the same tone as the other two chapters, I hadn't written it in such a long time that I had an interesting time coming back to write a chapter.

Adrien had done his best to ease tensions with Marinette, but his heart thrummed uncomfortably in his throat and her too blue eyes seemed to see through his barely held together act. They hadn’t stayed in her room for long, though he could look at the billboard for hours and still be amazed with some new aspect of it. Knowing that it hadn’t been a vindictive poaching from his father made the unease in his stomach roil angrily. How was he supposed to help his father with this awful idea?

Nino had quickly taken Adrien under his wing, literally, the man had thrown a dark arm around Adrien’s shoulder and steered him from the room and into the warm living quarters of the Dupain-Cheng household. It was cluttered compared to the modern lines of his own home, and the gym from the basement could hold two of this apartments easily. But it was warm, the furniture was a mismatch of colors and fabrics, but they seemed like such an important fixing to the room that they were almost alive as part of the family. The furniture in his house however stood as if they were kings or gods, high above those who lived in the house.

“Mari and Alya are heading to the studio, would you like to come with us?” Nino was exuberant, a quiet beat was playing from the headphones around his neck, and the man acted as if he didn’t even hear it, like it was just a part of his own heartbeat. Adrien felt like he was swallowing a rock, it was stuck in the center of his throat and it was so dry he almost choked on the it. But he nodded, he wanted to see more of what Marinette had created, and the only way to keep his father from destroying the abundance of talent he’d seen from her so far was to keep close enough to feed him small truths.

The woman in questions walked ahead of them down the stairs, her short hair loose around her face, her makeup was minimal and it suited the shape of her eyes and made the blue pop, though Adrien was sure that her eyes would be too blue regardless of what she wore. A pair of dark jeans, a light grey tunic, and a pair of boots made her look a mix of casual and stylish. She ducked quickly behind the counter to kiss her parent’s cheeks and grab a black purse with white polka dots from underneath the register. 

Her parents were calling her by endearments, things he’d never been called in his life, and the love he could see made him envious. He wanted this with his father. He didn’t want to be a pawn used for gain and put into plays to progress his father’s power. Nino, joined in with the goodbyes as if he was family too. 

The gray eyes of Marinette’s mothers met his, and she smiled at him. She looked like Marinette sort of, she had wrinkles in the corner of her eyes and mouth, the kind that happened from smiling too much. He wanted those, but knew that he didn’t smile naturally enough to gain them. Someday he’d have them.

“Be sure to come back and visit Adrien” Sabine was still smiling at him, but she’d come closer and rested her hand against his arm comfortingly, “You’re welcome anytime, even if you don’t have Nino or Marinette.” There was a warmth, he wondered if his mom would be this way if she’d still been alive? He didn’t think so. She’d be warm, but his father sucked the warmth and love out of a room like a Dementor from Harry Potter. 

“I’ll be sure to visit again” he smiled, his real smile, the one that he’d never see stretched across billboards. Before they left the building a bag with still warm croissants was pressed into his hand, Tom gave him a conspiratorial wink to go along with them and the brisk Paris air reminded him of his own father’s temperament. 

The building they eventually entered had a sign advertising it as a tea parlor, the building was full of dark wood tables and colorful tea sets displayed behind the counter. An old man with a pointed gray goatee and a flashy Hawaiian shirt greeted the trio warmly.

“Uncle Fu, Maman and Papa sent me with your order.” Adrien hadn’t even noticed the boxes she and Nino had carried with them. He usually wasn’t so spacey, but he was feeling introverted and contemplative about his own life. 

“Thank you Marinette and Nino.” The old man opened the boxes to reveal a beautifully decorated cake and some cookies. “Alya and the others are upstairs waiting for you.” 

Adrien smiled reassuringly at Nino when he glanced at him, the only friend Adrien had ever had was Chloe, and she didn’t put much stock into his feelings. She often burst into conversation over him, and she spoke loudly and demanded attention. Nino wasn’t like that. He didn’t say it, but Adrien was aware of the care his new friend was putting into practice. Sure he was way out of his depth, but Nino was keeping him grounded. Marinette was already on the move, the floor creaking lovingly beneath her as she moved towards a closed door behind the counter. 

The back of the shop smelled wonderful, there were clumps of herbs tied to the ceiling drying in the sunlight that streamed through the windows. It smelled of mint and chamomile. He could see the different canisters with their loose tea leaves sitting along the shelves behind the counter, and he wanted nothing more than to open and smell the different fragrances the leaves held. 

The stairs were steep, it was obvious the building was old, but it was well cared for. He could hear the laughter of two women and an indignant male voice. He had followed between Marinette and Nino, and he was trying hard not to notice how shapely Marinette was. The pants fit tightly, and the tunic draped in flattering ways against her curves. He did his best to focus on the signature he had examined on Nino’s suit. The bottom hem of the shirt had stitching. Yes he was looking at the stitching, not her butt. No he was definitely looking at her butt. 

“Nino was telling me about your signature in the pieces you create.” Adrien was trying to distract himself, “I hadn’t considered the personal aspect of it, but I like it.” 

Her head had turned a little in his direction, he could barely see the color of her iris against the corner of her eye. “I’m sure you’re used to seeing your father’s signature in your clothing,” she paused and a flush of pink ran across her cheeks, “But thank you. I’m glad you were able to grasp the feeling behind it.” She took the next step a little too large, and she had to grasp the rail to keep herself upright. Adrien was worried, but also endeared to the clumsy and beautiful woman in front of him. But for her sake he pretended not to have seen the trip.

The curly haired girl from the party was sitting at a computer in one of the corners of the room. A woman with a short asymmetrical bob was lounging in a makeup chair, her hair was an unnatural shade of red, but it suited her. One of her arms was wrapped around her stomach as she laughed, the other was being held hostage by a dark haired man. Her skin was strikingly pale against the darker tone of the mans, who was about the shade as Nino, his hair was a mess but it looked artful and purposeful.

“It isn’t funny Tikki!” the man’s face seemed firm, but the hold on the woman’s hand was light and careful. Adrien could see an artful application of makeup on his face, the man kept reaching towards a package of makeup wipes and trying to scrub at the waterproof masterpiece. 

“Plagg,” the woman began before falling apart into another fit of giggles, “It’s your fault for napping instead of working on the set for the shoot.” Adrien understood then that the makeup hadn’t been there before the nap. 

“If it makes you feel better you look gorgeous.” Marinette’s delivery was deadpan, but there was a wide grin across her face. “I think we should put you in one of the dresses for the shoot. You’re too beautiful to pass up.” 

The man turned toward Marinette, and threw a makeup wipe at her, which fell short of the target and caused the red haired woman to giggle again. Plagg was wearing blush, but Adrien could swear he saw the faintest hint of an actual blush come across his face. 

“Adrien this is my girlfriend Alya, she’s our photographer” Nino’s voice was full of pride as he turned the attention to the curly haired woman at the computer. She hadn’t worn glasses the night of the party, but the glasses fit her face shape well. Her hand was slim as she shook his, and the biggest thing about her was the volume to her hair. 

“The beautiful maiden over there is Plagg, he does the sets for the shoot.” Nino fluttered his eye lashes at the other man playfully.

“Plagg?” Adrien asked no one in particular

“It isn’t his real name” Marinette spoke up from the other side of the room where mannequins and garment bags took up the majority of the space. “Tikki’s either. I don’t think I even know their actual names. They’ve always just been Plagg and Tikki.” 

Tikki had finally left the chair, and she’d grasped Adrien’s hand in introduction. She was short. Much shorter than most of the women he’d been around, probably a problem only supermodels face. She was wearing a tight red skirt with black polka dots, a black fitted shirt, and a matching polka dotted bandanna tied around her hair. 

“I’d love to do your makeup!” her voice was higher than Marinette’s, why was he comparing everything to Marinette? “I think your features would be gorgeous if we added a few feminine hints.” 

“Thank you?” It was a question, at the same time it wasn’t. His mother had been gorgeous, and Adrien took after her more than his father. He could see how contour could soften his features. His father had refused any attempt photographers had made to do this. 

Alya made a noise of assent, and looked at him thoughtfully. “I think you’d be able to pull of a lot of interesting combinations. Androgynous models are in, and with Tikki’s magic we could get a lot of beautiful shots.” She glanced back to where Marinette was organizing the different garment bags. 

“Have you considered modelling outside of your father’s company?” Alya had hit on a sore spot for Adrien. He had received offers from other designers, and he had wanted to do some of them. He’d begged his father for a few which ultimately led to failure.

“Unfortunately my contract is incredibly strict regarding my modeling.” Adrien smiled to try and get rid of some of the stupid tension he could feel building. “If it wasn’t in place I would love to try some of Marinette’s designs, and your photos are gorgeous.” He could tell he hadn’t hurt Alya’s feelings, in fact she smiled at him so mischievously that he began to get worried. 

“You know our models wear masks right? We could easily get some colored contacts and with the right makeup and angles it won’t look like your normal ads do.” Alya was pulling him towards Marinette’s work table, which was covered in different busts covered in intricate masks. They were gorgeous, one had intricate beading that sparked and glinted sweetly from the white base of the fabric. Another was made up of peacock feathers, something he’d rather avoid touching and being near, but even from a distance it was striking how they were layered over the mask shape. 

He was blinded momentarily as Alya slid a cool satin mask over his eyes, the fabric was dark, and when he finally managed to regain his bearings he was staring into a handheld mirror. The mask looked unreal, it had a feline shape to it, not anything obvious but the slant of the eyes and the angles it took to cover his cheekbones and part of his forehead. There was an assortment of dark beads that gave the illusion of fur as they caught the light, there was a subtle dimension to the mask that he hadn’t seen in the others. 

“How about we take a picture just for fun, if you don’t want us to use it we can just hang it as a welcome to the family?”

Adrien’s heart seemed lighter at the aspect of joining the tight group, but his father lurked behind every action, and he hated how calculating each movement seemed to him. He didn’t want to hurt these people, he had just begun to feel part of their group. He usually was lofted above people, always taking photos with fans and seeing his face in commercials and on adverts and billboards. He didn’t want to be some unreachable god, he wanted to blend with others. He wanted to laugh freely, and really smile. His gaze met Marinette’s and she smiled at him, it was subtle just the corner of her mouth rising in a grin, but he wanted to see her face lined with laugh lines and crows feet. He wanted to give that to her. And so he agreed, and he felt free, freer than the champagne bubbles or other rule breaking had ever made him feel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading, thank you for the kudos and the comments. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I really appreciate it :)


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